The Guardians
by Got Frostbyte
Summary: Once upon a time, Jor-el and the greatest minds of Krypton created two 'gods.'  Sent to Earth, the Flamebird and Nightwing were meant to help the Kandorians.  But both the Book of Rao and the Nightwing are missing.  How can the Kandorians be saved?
1. Chapter 1

"Earth to Smallville! Come in, Smallville!" Clark Kent's eyes refocused as he snapped out of his daze, only to find a well manicured hand snapping irritably inches from his nose. "Come on, Smallville, get your head out of the clouds! We've got a scoop!" Lois Lane's quizzical, if not slightly annoyed face filled his view. "What?" Clark stammered as Lois moved to her desk, scooping up her jacket, her purse, her Blackberry, and her coffee with speeds only 'The Blur' could match. The Blur. Clark smirked, a small bit of pride from the persona he adopted to help the world. "Stop dragging your feet!" Lois snapped, half way up the stairs. "Oh, coming." Clark grabbed his jacket, plodding behind Lois like a faithful sidekick and her secret guardian angel.

He had been miles away, thinking about the Kandorians and the Book of Rao. He didn't know what he was supposed to do with them, with Zod. "What's happening?" Clark 'caught up' with Lois at the elevator. "Hostage situation at the doughnut shop. Some wacko wants attention? Well now he's got every cop in Metropolis' undivided attention." The elevator slid open. Well at least he wouldn't be alone. John Jones was sure to be there. Clark sucked in a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for a Blur appearance, but it was risky. While it wasn't about the doughnuts, there was bound to be plenty of police on scene. He would have to be careful.

"Where is the Book of Rao?" A woman's voice echoed in the otherwise empty room. Zod looked up from his lieutenants to face the intruder interrupting his meeting. No one took that tone with him! No one! To his surprise, Zod found a young woman dressed in traditional Kryptonian garb. Her over tunic was red, trimmed in gold over the common black body suit and boots. She wore the badge of the military guild, his guild. Her redish-brown hair was pulled back in a braid that fell down her back and over her forehead was a golden tiara. "How dare you speak up to your superior!" Zod growled, his eyes narrowing, but his anger stayed in check. "Where is the Book of Rao?" The woman repeated, her tone rising. She stepped forward, her body language menacing, ready to fight.

If it was a fight this insubordinate whelp wanted, it was a fight she would get. Zod raised his hand to her, a scowl creasing his face. "I will teach you some respect-" Swinging his hand, the young woman caught his arm. "Geaw!" Zod could not suppress a cry of pain as his forearm ignited in flames, burning through his sleeve and scoring his skin. He tried to pull away, but the girl's grip was like iron, like a true Kryptonian. "I will ask you one last time." The woman began, twisting his arm, forcing the proud Zod to his knees. "Where is the Book of Rao?" Zod heard the sound of his lieutenants' boots scuffling. Looking over his shoulder, he found them on their knees, heads bent down. "The Flamebird!" They gasped in awe. Impossible! A guardian of the Book of Rao? Here? On this worthless ball of mud? The Flamebird was a totem animal of Krypton, now long gone. She was a god and she did not know where the book was? He could use this to his advantage. "I-I, it's with Kal-el! Find him and you will find the book."

The Flamebird released his hand, scoffing. "You are all that is left of Krypton? Great father Rao, I weep for you." Zod gripped his arm, scowling at the god incarnate. He would have to play this carefully. "This is Kal-el's doing! We should have been restored to our former glory if it were not for him! He wants the power of the yellow sun all for himself! If you are truly a protector of Krypton, make Kal-el pay! Protect your people!"

Arriving at the doughnut shop, the street was crawling with police. Through the glass window, Clark could see a man holding a gun to a small boy. The boy couldn't possibly have been older than eight years old. He didn't look scared, though. Instead, he was chanting. With the aid of his enhanced hearing, Clark honed in on the boy's words. To anyone else, it would have been incoherent garble. To Clark Kent, it was Kryptonian. Though he was having a hard time keeping up with the harmonious hymnal, he was certain he understood the general message: "Rao pondered this loneliness, until, reaching into himself for a small fraction of the energies harnessed within…And transformed the flames of chaos into the fires of creation…" The boy was chanting from the Kryptonian bible, the Book of Rao! As this revelation dawned upon Clark, John Jones stepped into view, the deep scowl on his face told Clark he knew something. "Excuse me, Lois." Clark touched her shoulder lightly before turning to Jones. Lois was so wrapped up doing her job, she barely noticed him. "What's going on, John?" Clark discretely leaned in close to the Martian Manhunter. "The boy is Kryptonian, isn't he?" Jones nodded. "I'm afraid it's more complicated than that, Clark." Clark furrowed his brow at the cryptic comment. "How much more complicated could it be?" Jones leaned in closer, his voice dropping. "He isn't a Kandorian Kryptonian. All the Kandorians are adults, there shouldn't be any children." Clark and Jones turned to look at the hostage, hundreds of thousands of questions sprang to mind. "He's…he's a Kryptonian survivor? Like me?" Jones was hesitant to confirm such a theory, but he saw no other explanation. "I think so."

A look of hope flickered across Clark's face. Another Kryptonian survivor? Like him? Like Kara? And he had to get to that boy before anyone else could. "Distract Lois, John. I need to change." Jones nodded, turning his eyes onto the young reporter. Lois Lane was like a bloodhound. Once she caught a scent, she was relentless. On more the one occasion she was mere inches away from discovering Clark's secret. She already stumbled upon Oliver's. It was a full-time job keeping that woman off their trail. "Leave it to me, Clark." Jones thumped Clark on the shoulder before walking towards Lois. Meanwhile, Clark slipped discretely out of sight, performing a super-speed outfit change. Angling himself in the back alley behind the doughnut shop, Clark went in through the kitchen. He had to go in fast and with no room for mistakes. The kitchen staff made their escape easily from the gunman. His focus had been on the patrons, not the staff. But what role did that boy play in all of this? His clothing did not look Kryptonian. He had been on Earth long enough to get clothes? From where? From whom? Taking a deep breath, Clark readied himself. This would have to be done in one precise swoop. Opening the kitchen door, Clark moved as fast as his Kryptonian body would allow. Grabbing a chair, he struck the man. The chair shattered and the man fell. Looping back, he hooked his arm around the boy and ran right back out.

Three blocks away from the situation, Clark finally stopped and set the boy down. The boy turned his large blue eyes up to Clark. The brown haired child looked familiar, but he could not place from where. "Are you alright? What is your name?" His Kryptonian wasn't all that great, but the boy seemed to understand him. "Don't worry, I know English." The boy said with a giggle. "But I can't remember my name." Shock radiated through Clark, "You're Kryptonian?" The boy smiled, "Yeah…well, sorta. It's a long story. I'm here for a reason, but-" The boy's face dropped, sadness filling his eyes, compelling Clark to kneel down and rest a reassuring hand on the child's shoulder. "I can't remember why I'm here either." The boy's eyes filled with tears. "But I'm here for something important! I have a job to do and I can't remember what it is!" Clark was at a loss. He hadn't felt this befuddled since Lana and he had to care for a rapidly aging child. "It will be ok, I promise." Clark patted the child's shoulder. "I'll take you home, ah, we'll figure it out from there. And we'll get you a name, too. How's that?" The boy's blue eyes lit up, the tears forgotten, as joy once more filled his face. "That would be great!" Scooping the boy up in his arms, Clark turned towards Smallville.

Back at the farm, Clark manage to find some clothes from storage that the boy could wear, he fed him and they even settled on the name. The boy like Christopher, something that sat uneasily with Clark, who vividly recalled a world where he did not exist. "So, where did you come from if not Krypton?" Clark finally asked. Chris poked at the last bit of his eggs with his fork. "I'm from the Phantom Zone." The Chris mystery deepened. "That's impossible. Why were you put there? How did you get out?" Chris looked up at him with trepidation. "I was put there by my father. I don't remember much, but I remember him saying I would be safest in the shadows. That's the last I remember until that pretty fire woke me up." Clark was very, very confused. "Fire?" Christ nodded. "It was a dream, it had to be a dream. But I remember her warmth, like she was really there. And when I woke up, I was crashing into the forest."


	2. Chapter 2

"Jor-el!" She stood in the center of the Fortress. The coldness didn't bother her, if anything, ice crystals melted away at her approach. "Thara. I was beginning to wonder what had happened to you." Thara wandered through the fortress, examining the small piece of Krypton, a small comfort on this alien world. "It would appear I came too late!" She frowned, "Your son, Kal-el, he has the Book of Rao, but he has not activated it. The Kandorians are powerless. You helped make me to protect these people! I cannot protect them with your son getting in my way! And as if there weren't enough complications with this master plan of yours, Lor-Zod is missing! You know the Nightwing and the Flamebird must be united or New Krypton will suffer the same fate as the original!" There was a long pause, then the interactive simulation replied. "The Book of Rao is not with Kal-el.." Thara grit her teeth, trying very hard to keep her temper in check, fire sparking from her normally blue eyes. "Where. Is. It?" There was a small pause. "I cannot say, Thara. But it is essential that you find it." Thara rolled her eyes. This was a futile trip. "What about the Nightwing, Jor-El? Can you locate him?" There was a long pause. "No, but I can tell you where his pod landed.

Deep in the red wood forest of California, there was a hideous scar gouged out of the lush, green foliage. The smoldering crash site had caused a massive forest fire. This was the windy season and the fire spread like…well, a forest fire in California… Every firefighter in the state scrambled to keep the fires from destroying the precious forest. People were being evacuated, a state of emergency was declared. It was all very typical. A fire marshal, who's name was inconsequential, was in the middle of investigating the cause of this particular fire. He was certain it was manmade, it was definitely not natural. He was partially correct. Weaving through the underbrush, the fire marshal came upon what looked like… "Holy shit!" Was all the middle aged man had time to utter before an ominous black cloud rose up from the crashed space ship. But this was no normal cloud of smoke. It moved on its own, sentient even. It snaked and slithered, nearly taking shape, but never seeming to fully form.

The specter hovered for a moment, examining the man like a hawk might eye a mouse. Then, without warning, the phantasm swooped in on the man. And for the first time, it's form became apparent to him. This ghost, this monster possessed a gapping maw lined with ebon teeth; its long, lanky neck coiled as it tucked its angular head close to the barrel-shaped chest. Great webbed wings were spread wide as hooked talons poised for the attack. The ghostly dragon threw itself upon the man. With a soundless scream, the man stood in horror, his mind drifting back to his youth, recalling a scene from the second 'Ghostbusters' film when the phantom train ran down the characters inspecting the haunted tunnel. However, unlike the movie, this phantom did not pass through him, it entered his body, commandeering his flesh. The fire marshal, the unnamed middle aged man, thrashed about in the middle of the woods, combating a creature in his mind. The two entities struggled for control, naturally, but it was a futile attempt by the rightful owner. The beast claimed victory, leaving the fire marshal a spectator in his own skin.

This thing, this…Nightwing… Nightwing? How did he know that? But no sooner had the question formed had the creature replied, a whisper so faint it hardly qualified as sound. But it wasn't sound, the Nightwing spoke deep within his mind, now shrouded and foggy from the shadowy occupant. The marshal reeled, his thoughts interrupted by an agonizing pain. The Nightwing was too much for him, it overpowered his mind with thoughts and knowledge, so much information. It was like downloading the internet in its entirety directly into his brain. The fire marshal jerked involuntarily, frothing at his mouth as the Nightwing struggled to remain within this body. The marshal's hair turned silver, then white as his middle aged body grew awkward and decrepit with old age. "No…" The Nightwing wheezed using the alien's mouth. It took great effort and sheer force of will, but he pushed the weak…weakened…human body forward. The Nightwing was injured, dying. He was torn away from himself in a way that can only be described in the human language as having his body and soul being ripped apart in the most agonizing of methods. Without his other half, he was essentially dying. There was a purpose, there was a mission, if only he could remember what it was.

"Alright," Clark announced, pushing himself away from the table, "Since you can't remember who you are, maybe I know of someone who can." His first thought went to Jor-El. But there was also Kara. Kara wasn't nearly as cryptic as Jor-El, usually. Maybe she knew about this boy. Chris looked up at him blankly. The boy seemed so detached. Maybe he was suffering some post-trauma or culture shock. His dark eyes followed Clark as he moved around the kitchen to his cellphone. His enhanced hearing detected the synthesized tone coming from the device followed shortly by an automated voice requesting a message to be left. Clark grimaced faintly, attempting to mask his displeasure from Chris as he turned to face the boy. "I guess we're going-" The dish Chris had been eating from hovered in the air, the faintest hint of a purple aura encircling it. Christ, looking intently focused on the dish, slowly turned his head to the sink, setting the dish in the metal basin. Clark just stared at the boy, mystified. Chris looked back at him, smiling. Seeing Clarks expression, the smile faded. "Did I do something wrong?" He squeaked. Clark just gawked at him, his mouth hanging slightly ajar before he confessed. "I-I can't do that…"

Landing in the middle of the Earth forest, it was easy to see where the ship containing the Nightwing had landed. Thara moved closer, her hearth pounding in her chest. The last time she saw Lor, they were small children. She remembered Jor-el and Ak-var speaking to them, taking blood, the laboratory, talking about what miracles the children were. Ak-var called her his daughter, he took her home where she was loved by him and his wife, she was their child. Thara Ak-var and Lor-zod were quick friends, inseparable. But the happiness did not last. She was the equivalent of ten Earth years old when Jor-el came with Lor in hand, he was panicked, stressed. Jor-el and Ak-var fought, but in the end Thara went with Jor-el. "They're too young, Jor-el!" Ak-var pleaded one last time as Lor and Thara were placed in the larges tanks filled with oxygen-rich liquid. "They'll never survive the infusion!" But Jor-el was no longer listening. Something happened to Thara in that tank. Her body, mind, and soul expanded. She grew up in a heartbeat, every fiber of her being was on fire. She burned. And there was a voice, a great flame in her mind, whispering to her, soothing her fears. It was such a warm presence. "We did it, Ak-var." Thara remembered Jor-el saying before she blacked out. "We've created the gods." When Thara awoke, she was on an alien planet called Earth. She still felt the comforting presence in the back of her mind, but it never spoke to her, not like that first time.

"Lor-zod?" Thara approached the crashed ship. But there was no sign of the Nightwing. "Beloved!" She screamed into the quiet fire, the anguished cry did not come from her, but the flame within her, speaking up for the first time, asserting itself in a fiery explosion in her mind. Thara was no longer alone. They were the Flamebird now, child of Father Rao. Being trapped in this mortal body may have once enraged the sentient fire, but she had a mission, a mission that this body proved useful for. Enveloped in flames, Thara the Flamebird, bringer of light and guardian of Krypton, lifted herself into the air, searching for signs of her counterpart, the shadows, her Nightwing. A haggard wheeze caught her attention, reaching her delicate hearing. Turning glowing eyes upon a the crumpled form of a man, ghostly white and aged to near death, he shook with renewed vigor at her approach, a brief spark of life in his dying condition. Light of my existence. He wheezed in the ancient tongue, clouded eyes turning to see her, but blinded with cataracts. My beloved. The Flamebird replied, bending down to lift him in her arms, her burning nova of a heart shuddering at the bitter sweet reunion of her soul mate, now dying with the weak human body in which he inhabited. I've lost myself, beloved. I can't remember! He stressed his words, strained and in great pain. But even now, I cannot forget you. He lifted a decrepit claw of a hand to touch her face. Tears of molten lava trickled down her face, We will save you, beloved. We remember our purpose.


End file.
